


Just Another Day

by ravenspaw



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Post-Nogitsune, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:50:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenspaw/pseuds/ravenspaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Nogitsune, Stiles tells Scott that he's considered suicide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Can Something Go Wrong That I Can't See?

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titles from Next To Normal

It was just another day after the Nogitsune, a pretty normal day, just Stiles and Scott chilling in Stiles’ house, playing video games and eating potato chips.

“You know,” Stiles says suddenly, “some days I think about starving myself.”

And Scott’s brain freezes, because as far as he’s concerned, _that_ literally comes out of nowhere. He knows Stiles’ been having a hard time ever since the Nogitsune, ever since Allison died. He knows Stiles has been dealing with depression and that he’s been having some pretty tough days. Scott has even considered talking to Stiles about it, but he hadn't realized that Stiles was anywhere near _suicide._

“Do you,” Scott swallows, “do you think about this often?” He wants to ask _Are you thinking about this now?_ but doesn’t know how. 

Stiles shrugs. “Not too often,” he says, almost casually, but Scott knows Stiles too well to believe this façade of indifference. Stiles is scared, scared of what he feels, and scared of admitting it to anyone, even to Scott.

“You do eat, right?” Scott asks, just to make sure. He’s quickly reviewing the last few weeks in his head, cataloguing everything he remembers Stiles eating. He _seemed_ to be eating normally. But Scott isn’t with Stiles all the time, and the Sheriff sure as hell isn’t monitoring Stiles’ food intake. Scott wonders if he should tell the Sheriff about this, but he doesn’t want to lose Stiles’ trust.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. His heartbeat remains steady, and Scott doesn’t think he’s lying, but Stiles is a crafty little bastard, and Scott knows better than to trust everything Stiles says.

“Have you ever thought about doing – anything else?” Scott asks. He’s imagining knives and scars. It’s not like he can see Stiles’ skin under all of those layers.

“Nah,” Stiles says, shaking his head with a sad little smirk on his face, “I’m too squeamish to do anything else.”

“Good. That’s good,” Scott says. He doesn’t think that’s good at all. The only reason Stiles isn’t actively hurting himself is because he’s squeamish. Not because suicide is so wrong, or so – so final. But because he’s _squeamish_.

“Does anyone else know about this?” Scott asks. “Like your dad?” His mind struggles to come up with any other authority figures Stiles might respect.                              

Stiles stills, and stays quiet for a really long, tense moment. “I don’t really know how to tell him,” he says finally in a small, quiet voice. “I don’t know how he’ll react.”

“I’m here for you whenever you’re ready to tell him,” Scott says. He figures that the best support role he can play right now is that of loyal best friend.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, swallowing. “I’ll – I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But, you’ll tell me if you ever think of doing – something,” Scott presses.

“I’m not _actually_ going to do anything,” Stiles says shortly.

“Promise me,” Scott says. He needs some sort of promise, something that he can use to convince Stiles to rethink if he ever goes back into that dark place.

“I’m not going to do anything.”

“ _Promise,_ ” Scott says.

“Fine,” Stiles mutters. “I promise I won’t do anything stupid. You happy?”

“Yeah,” Scott says.                                                                                                           

It stays pretty tense between them, so Scott makes up some excuse, and heads home as soon as he can.

***

Scott’s nervous. He worries that Stiles will chafe at the commitment Scott wrangled out of him. He’s scared that Stiles won’t tell him anything just to spite him, just to show Scott that he doesn’t have to listen to him.

And he knows that he didn’t handle the whole conversation well. He freaked out, and pushed Stiles farther than he was comfortable with, farther than he should’ve.

He decides he needs to talk to Stiles again. He pulls out his phone. They’ve been texting a lot. It’s easier to talk about feelings and emotions when he doesn’t have to look the other person in the eye.

 **SCOTT:** Srry i freaked. U rlly scared me :(                                                                  

He’s not sure if Stiles is going to answer, how their relationship changed after their conversation earlier today. He doesn’t know if Stiles is interested in confiding in him anymore, after Scott pushed him like that.

 **STILES:** It was a scary thing to hear

Scott breathes a sigh of relief. Stiles answered back right away, so they’re still talking to each other. It seems like Stiles is even willing to talk about _that_. Not in person, clearly, but if Stiles wants to have this conversation via text, Scott can do that.

 **SCOTT:** no shit. u freaked me the fuck out

 **SCOTT:** u kinda just sprung it on me man. no warning or whatever

 **STILES:** sorry dude. i thought u knew                          

 **SCOTT:**??

 **SCOTT:** i _did not_ know that.

 **SCOTT:** Why did u think I knew that

 **STILES:** I nvr told u?

 **SCOTT:** no!!

 **STILES:** sorry :(

 **SCOTT:** wld u ever tell anyone else?

 **STILES:** not my dad. Don’t know how to tell him

 **SCOTT:** anyone else?

Scott’s thinking about a therapist or something. He doesn’t know how to bring it up.

 **STILES:** I’d even talk to a shrink but no shrinks know abt supernatural shit except morrell

And Scott can immediately see the problem with that.

 **SCOTT:**  she’s scary man

 **STILES:** scary??? she creeps me the fuck out

 **SCOTT:** maybe deaton knows someone

 **SCOTT:** or derek

 **STILES:**???

 **STILES:** derek has some serious issues dude. i don’t rlly see him going 2 a shrink like ever

 **SCOTT:** his family were arounnd like 4ever. He prob knows abt e/o in the supernatural community around here

 **SCOTT:** even shrinks

There’s a long pause from Stiles, and Scott thinks that maybe he’s pushed too far. He’s unsure of whether he should text him again, or let Stiles resume the conversation. He waits a bit.

 **STILES:** wud u talk 2 derek from me?

 **SCOTT:** sure dude!                   

He’d do anything that would get Stiles some help.                              

 **STILES:** I’ll think about it.

 **SCOTT:** we’re good?                             

 **STILES:** we’re good.

 


	2. Feeling Like This Feeling Never Goes Away

Stiles lies on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He thinks about doing his homework. It's getting close to nine, and he hasn't really started yet. It's Friday, so it's not like he needs to finish it tonight. He's got a few days to do it.

 

He likes Fridays. They're the end of a long, tiring week, and represent the beginning of two whole days of freedom from the rigors of high school socializing. His dad's working this weekend, so Stiles doesn't really have to interact with anyone. He doesn't have to slap a smile on his face and pretend that he's happy, or even okay. He hates going to school. He hates having to act, having to lie to his friends that everything's okay, when most days he really just feels like shit. It's tiring.

 

His phone buzzes. _Did you ask your dad yet?_ It's a text from Scott. Stiles hasn't, and doesn't want to think about it, so he doesn't answer. He knows Scott is waiting for a reply, but he doesn't know how to answer. He'll ask his dad when he comes home from work, he decides. His dad's not coming home until around midnight. He's got a couple of hours to figure out how he's going to ask him.

 

He looks at the clock again. 8:54. He should probably make something for dinner. He didn't really eat breakfast, but had to eat his sandwich during lunch because Scott was watching him. Stiles told Scott a few nights ago that he hasn't really been eating, and since then, Scott's been acting weird. He doesn't really blame him. Stiles doesn't really know how he'd react if Scott told him he was starving himself. Whenever they're together, Scott's encouraging him to eat. At lunch, they're with their friends, so Stiles can't really refuse without getting everyone else involved. And he really doesn't want to talk to get everyone involved.  And after school, Scott's texting him a lot more than usual. Sometimes, Stiles answers, and sometimes he doesn't. Scott keeps on asking him whether he's eaten anything. He can only answer in the negative so many times before Scott gets worried. And Stiles doesn't like to make Scott worried.

 

So Stiles heads down to the kitchen, to figure out what he's going to eat for dinner. He's not really hungry. Hasn't really been hungry in weeks, not since the Nogitsune. And they don't really have too much food in the fridge. Stiles' dad isn't too good at remembering to go grocery shopping, and Stiles just couldn't be bothered to  go this week. He finds some bread and some cheese. He doesn't feel like cooking, but if he eats a cheese sandwich, he'll be able to tell Scott that he ate dinner without lying. 

 

Scott's worried about him, Stiles knows. He doesn't want Scott to be worried. Scott wants him to see a therapist, to talk about what happened with the Nogitsune. Stiles knows that it's probably a good idea, but it's scary. It's hard to commit to speaking to a shrink. He knows that he should do it, that he probably will do it, but it's hard to admit to himself that he needs to do it.

 

It's even harder to talk to his dad about it. His dad knows what happened with the Nogitsune, and probably knows that Stiles isn't really handling it well. But he and his dad don't talk about their emotions. They never have, not even after Stiles' mom had died.

 

But Stiles know that he's not okay right now. He needs to talk about what happened - the possession, and his role in Alison's death. He needs to talk about how he's feeling, and about what he's not feeling. He needs to talk to his dad.

 

He decides to do some of his homework before his dad comes home. He used to try to finish all of it on Friday night, so that he could have the rest of the weekend free. Tonight, though, he's having a hell of a time starting - let alone concentrating on - his homework. It's hard to see why he should do it tonight, when he has the rest of the weekend to do it. It's not like he has any other plans.

 

He spends the next few hours doing his homework. He doesn't really get a lot done. He's nervous about talking to his dad, and he just doesn’t really care about his homework. It just seems so unimportant right now, especially given that he's living in a world where he might literally be killed by werewolves or demons or whatever. He could die tomorrow. Why should his homework matter? Why does anything he does matter? He doesn't really have an answer.

 

He hears his dad come home, so he heads downstairs to greet him.

 

"Hey, dad," Stiles says.

 

"Hey, Stiles," his dad says. He looks surprised. Stiles doesn't usually wait up for him, or greet him when he comes home. "What's up?"

 

Stiles doesn't answer immediately. He fiddles with his sleeve. His dad waits patiently. That's one of the things that he likes most about him.

 

"I - I think," Stiles takes a deep breath. His dad nods at him encouragingly. "I think I need to speak with someone." He looks at his dad quickly, and then looks away. "Like a therapist, maybe." He whispers the last phrase. It's unexpectedly hard to say.

 

"That might be a good idea," his dad says, and Stiles lets out a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding. "The only concern I have is that I'd like you to be able to speak completely honestly with someone. About all of your experiences, even the supernatural ones. Especially the supernatural ones."

 

Stiles nods. "I was actually talking to Scott, who told me that Derek probably knew about therapists who knew about werewolves and stuff. He asked Derek for me, and he gave me the name of this one." He hands his dad a piece of paper.

 

His dad takes the paper, and reads it. "Dr. Jenna Collins. I'll make some calls tomorrow," he looks at the clock and winces, "today. Her office might be closed because it's Saturday, but I'll leave a message if it is. Is that good?"  
 

"Yeah," Stiles says. He hugs his dad, hesitantly. His dad hugs him back, and Stiles just enjoys the hug, enjoys knowing that his dad cares.

 

They stay like that for a few minutes. "Stiles, you might want to get to sleep," his dad says. "I know it's a Saturday, but you've had a rough few weeks, and I think you need some rest."

 

"Ok," Stiles says, and gives his dad one more hug. He heads upstairs, and grabs his phone off the desk.

 

 _I asked him_ , he sends to Scott.

 

Scott replies immediately. _What he'd say?????_  

 

 _He's going to call her tom_ , Stiles sends.

 

_Dude that's awesome!! I'm proud of u :)_

 

And Stiles is too.

 

 


	3. And This is One Fucked Up Seduction

Stiles rubs his eyes. He's been staring at the bestiary so long that the words are starting to blur together.

"Have you found anything?" she asks. She's impatiently tapping a pencil against her phone.

He nods. "Apparently, kelpies can be killed by bullets made of either silver or iron. Different legends recommend different metals, so I'll guess we'll try both until something works. I think I can get Derek to ask Mr Argent for bullets."

"That's great," Lydia says. She seems kinda spaced out, and isn't as enthusiastic about his discovery as he thought she would be.

"Are you okay, Lydia?" he asks.

She shrugs. "About as well as can be expected," she says. Stiles is almost surprised to hear Lydia say that. She has always tried to project an aura of perfection - perfect boyfriend, perfect grades, perfect outfits - even as her life was falling apart. Her dad's been out of the picture forever, Stiles knows, and the last few months in this shitty town haven't been easy, and learning about her burgeoning banshee-death powers through a dead werewolf must have been unsettling. Stiles thinks that Lydia is probably scared to talk about the bad things in her life, lest she mars the perfect façade that she strives to portray. She's probably just as lonely as he is, and her best friend - her _Scott_ \- is dead because Stiles killed her.

Suddenly, she leans forward and kisses him. He's surprised as fuck, but lets himself enjoy it for a single moment - Lydia had been his crush for _five years_ \- and then gently pushes her away.

"I can't, Lydia, not now," he says.

"Why not?" she asks. She turns away from him, and starts looking down at her notes again. Stiles thinks she's trying to hide a blush. "You finally got over your crush?"

He shrugs. "Not really."

"So why did you push me away?" Lydia asks.

Stiles answers slowly. "I still think you're one of the most gorgeous girls I've ever seen, and I'm flattered that you think I have a chance with you, but now's not the right time. For either of us."

"Is it because of Malia?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "We're not involved. We've never really been in a serious relationship."

Lydia's still not looking at him. "She told me that you had sex with her. In Eichen. She said she was your first."

Stiles exhales slowly. He wishes that Malia didn’t feel the need to share their fucked-up sexual history with other people. He doesn't really want to be angry at her, though. She literally has the maturity of a nine-year old, and probably didn't understand why having sex with him wasn't the best idea, or why he would be upset that she told Lydia about it without talking to him first.

"Lydia, neither of us were really capable of consenting," Stiles said. "She's a sixteen year old girl that's been living as a feral coyote since she was _nine_. She was in an _insane asylum_ , and I was there because I was possessed by a freaking fox demon! Neither of us were in our right mind. As a teenage dude, yeah, I like not being a virgin anymore. But we didn't really have sex in the healthiest circumstances. And it took hella lot of talking to get her to understand that. Malia thought that because we had sex that we were, like, mates for life, or something."

Lydia finally turned to look at him. "I'm sorry," she said. Stiles thinks she might have tears in her eyes. "I didn't know. I-"

Stiles gets up, and hugs her. She's stiff and tense in his arms. "Hey, Lyds, it's OK. Like you said, you didn't know." He just pats her back and keeps his arms around her until she calms down.

"You okay?" he asks. She nods, and he goes to the bathroom to get her some tissues. He hands them to her, and as he re-settles himself on her bed, she dabs at her eyes with them. 

"Lydia, like I said, I think you're gorgeous," Stiles says. "But I don't think I'm ready for a relationship right now. I'm sure you've noticed, I haven't been doing so well recently. Some days I'm okay, but others, well," he trails off.  

"Others?" Lydia prompts.

"Others I'm not so okay," he says. "I get really sad, and depressed, and feel generally shitty. It's not every day, but it happens often enough that I don't really feel like I'm emotionally stable right now. I'm working on getting help, but I just don't think it’s a good idea to enter a relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to me or my partner. I don't know if I can handle it. You get where I'm coming from?"

Lydia nods. "Yeah."

"I'd be honored to be your boyfriend," he continues. "And maybe in like five years, if you're still interested, I will be. But right now, I know that it wouldn’t be good for me, so I'm not."

They sit in silence for a bit, until Stiles finally musters up the courage to ask her "Why'd you do it?" They both know he's talking about the kiss.

She doesn't answer immediately. "I don't know," she says. Stiles waits for her to continue.

"I don't know," she says again. "I think that maybe, maybe I just wanted to feel close to someone? I just feel like everyone's gone. Or dead. Jackson's gone. Erica's dead. Boyd's dead. Isaac's gone. Alison's, Alison's," she breaks off, and dabs her eyes with the tissues again.

"Hey, it's okay," Stiles tells her. "Cry if you want, if you need to. I also cried, sometimes. I cry a lot about Alison."  He pats the bed, and Lydia gets up from the chair and moves to sit beside him. She leans into him, and he wraps his arms around her.

"Even now?" she asks. He sees the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, but doesn't mention them.

"Even now. And Scott probably will kill me for saying this, but he does too. We don't talk about it, but I know that it's hurting him too."

"It would have to," Lydia says. "She was his girlfriend for months. And he watched you. Your body. Kill -"

"Don't say it," he whispers. "Don't say it." He's silent for a minute. "I worry that Scott hates me because I-I killed her."

"You didn't," Lydia says. "You know that. Scott knows that."

"He says he does, but I'm scared. I'm scared that he holds her death against me," Stiles says. "I'm scared that you hold her death against me."

"I don't," she says fiercely, giving him a big hug. "You didn't do it. It's not your fault that you got possessed."

"That's what I try to tell myself," he says. "But I don’t really believe it. I invited the 'darkness in my soul' shit that Deaton warned us about when I saved my dad from the Darach. Maybe if I hadn't done that, I wouldn't have gotten possessed, and Alison would be okay."

"Don't say that!" she says. "Of course you had to rescue your dad. No one blames you for that. And no one blames you for getting possessed. Deaton talks a lot of shit, and half of it is made up. I'm sure that his _darkness_ was just some cryptic bullshit that he used to make everything seem more dramatic."

He sniffles. "He does that a lot."

"He does," Lydia agrees. "You have nothing to feel guilty about."

"I know that, intellectually," he says, pointing to his head. "But I don’t really believe it."

"I believe it," she says. "I hope you will one day too."

Stiles shrugs. "Maybe." He doubts it.

"It's hard though, with everyone gone," Lydia says.

Stiles nods in agreement.

"I just feel like everyone important in my life is gone or dead," she repeats.

"I'm still here for you," Stiles says. "And so's Scott. And my dad and Melissa, even if your mom and dad aren't. And Derek and Mr. Argent. And we're making new friends, like Kira. And Malia, even though she needs a fuckton of help."

"Yeah," she says into his shoulder. "I'm sorry I kissed you. I know that you had a crush, and I just felt like maybe if I became your girlfriend, you'd be so thrilled that you finally got me that you wouldn’t leave." 

"I'm not going to leave," he tells her again. "I'm never going to leave you. I mean that in a completely non-stalkery way," he adds, just to clarify. "I mean, one day we're going to go to college, probably not the same one, so we will have to separate, eventually. But I'll -"

She punches him lightly on the shoulder. "I get it. You'll be here for me if I ever need to talk."

"Always," he says. "I'll always be here for you."

"And I'll be here for you," Lydia says. "If you're ever having a bad day, or whatever, call me, or come over, and we'll work it through."

"Same for you," Stiles says. "Always."


	4. So You're Done With This School, and With All of This Shit

It's an unnaturally early hour in the morning, and Stiles is sitting at his desk in his Chemistry classroom, doodling on a piece of scratch paper while he waits for class to start.

The bell rings, and Harris walks into class. He pulls a stack of papers out of briefcase, and drops them on the desk. "Pop quiz time!" he says, smirking.

Stiles sighs. He's really not looking forward to a pop-quiz. He's managed to keep up with his homework, but hasn't really reviewed the material as much as he would've liked. Knowing Harris, he'd take off a bunch of points for every small mistake Stiles makes. Failing one quiz certainly won't ruin his GPA, but he doesn't really want to make a pattern of it.

Stiles steals a look at Scott. He's sitting upright in his seat, wearing his 'oh-shit-I'm-in-huge-trouble' face.

Scott is Stiles' best bro, and is an awesome guy and all-around good guy, but was never a good student even under ordinary circumstances. Unlike Stiles, Scott needs to spend many, many hours trying to understand the material, and has maintained a solid 'B' average solely because of Stiles' many impromptu tutoring sessions.

This year though, Scott has been too busy trying to protect this hellhole of a town from werewolves and fox-demons to spend much time studying. His grades have suffered, and despite Stiles' best efforts, he's been straddling the line between passing and failing Chemistry for most of the semester.

"You'll do fine!" he mouths to Scott as Harris begins handing out the papers.

"Stilinski!" Harris shouts. "Stop talking to McCall. McCall, try to pass something without Stilinski whispering the answers in your ear."

Stiles slumps in his seat. Scott's doomed. He sits down and starts taking the quiz. Harris collects the quizzes about ten minutes. Stiles thinks he did okay. He doesn't think Scott can say the same.

Eventually, the bell rings, and Stiles gathers his stuff and walks out of class. Scott's walking down the hallway ahead, and Stiles hurries up to catch up with him.

"So, how'd it go?" Stiles asks.

Scott shrugs. "Not too well."

Stiles reaches up and squeezes his shoulder. "I'm sure you passed."

Scott shakes his head. "I'm not so sure."

"Well, don't worry about it until we get the quizzes back," Stiles tries. "Maybe you did better than you thought. Maybe you passed."

"Maybe," Scott says. He doesn't sound too optimistic, and Stiles doesn't really blame him.

***

Harris hands back his paper. Stiles flips it over and sees he got a B. He looks over the questions, and it seems like he mostly made some careless mistakes, like adding '3' and '2' to get '6'. And since Harris is on ass, he gave him no partial credit on those questions. Whatever. Stiles feels like he knows the material, even if he made a couple of mistakes in the actual calculations.

He looks over at Scott. He's slumped in his seat, and doesn't look to happy. He doesn't want to try to get his attention now and get Harris even more upset with him. He'll wait until after class.

Once the bell rings, he immediately heads to Scott's desk.

"How'd it go?" he asks.

Scott shows him the paper, but doesn't look at him. There's a big, vindictive red F scrawled across the top, and Stiles knows that Scott is officially failing 11th grade Chemistry.

"Don't worry. We'll totally pull your grades up," Stiles says. "We just have to do a lot of practice problems and make sure we understand the homework."

Scott finally turns to look at him, and Stiles is surprised to see that he looks angry.

"Stiles, stop acting like you're anywhere close to failing. Stop pretending like these 'study sessions' are anything more than a pity session where you try to make yourself feel good, like you're not just trying to make to make up for everything you put me through in the last year. I don't need your help, Stiles."

Scott turns and walks down the hallway, and Stiles is surprised to feel tears well up in his eyes.

He wonders what happened, and how he's going to fix this.

***

"How'd school go today, son?" Stiles' dad asks him when he wanders into the kitchen to find an after-school snack. His dad is working the night shift the night shift tonight, and probably just woke up.

Stiles shrugs as he picks up a banana from the counter. "Okay, I guess."

"Just okay?" his dad asks. "It wasn't awesome, or great, or really bad? Just okay?"

Stiles focuses on unpeeling his banana. "It wasn't really that good," he says.

"Why not?" his dad asks.

Stiles doesn’t really know how to tell him what happened. He's been best friends with Scott forever. "I got into a fight," he finally settles on saying. 

"Not a physical fight, I hope," says his dad.

He shakes his head. "Not a physical fight," he agrees. He hesitates before saying, "It was with Scott."

"With Scott?" his dad sounds surprised, for good reason. They've never really had a fight before.

Stiles nods his head. "I don't know what happened exactly. I think he was mad about failing his chemistry quiz, and he maybe just took it out on me?"

"That doesn't really sound like him," his dad says. "You and Melissa mentioned that he's been having some trouble academically, but he isn't really the type to get into a fight about it. Especially not with you."

Stiles just nods. He feels the tears starting again, and doesn’t think he can talk without crying right now.

"What happened?" he asks.

Stiles takes a few deep breaths. His dad doesn’t pressure him, just stands there patiently until Stiles feels ready to talk.

"We had a chemistry quiz yesterday," he begins. "I did okay, but Harris was a dick and took off lots of points for some stupid mistakes I made. But Scott, like, completely failed. He was just barely passing before, and now he's failing. The class, not just the quiz."

"That's not really good," his dad says.

"No shit," Stiles says, and then looks away. "Sorry. Language. I know."

"Let's suspend that rule for a bit," his dad says. "What happened after the quiz?"

"I offered to help Scott, like do homework problems with him and study together and whatever. Like we did last year, when he was failing History. And like we do for almost every other class."

"He's not in danger of failing anything else, is he?"

Stiles shakes his head. "Not right now. But he's not so good at school to begin with, and he hasn't really had as much time to study as he really needs to pass. And I haven't really had as much time to help him."  
 

"Stiles. Whatever happened, it doesn't sound like it was your fault. You weren't provoking him, were you?"

He shakes his head. "No! Of course not. I would never make fun of him or anything. I just want him to do better."

"Then it wasn't your fault," his dad says firmly. "You are not responsible for his grades. It's nice that you want to help him, but Scott's grades are not your responsibility, okay?"

And Stiles _knows_ that. But it's fucking hard to _believe_ that when he's spent the last ten years literally doing everything he can to help Scott do well. And the one time he doesn’t stay on top of Scott's grades, Scott failed, and he lashed out at him.

"Yeah, I know," he mutters. "But Scott's really pissed at me. He kinda blew up at me after I offered to help him study."

"I can't say I know why Scott got upset," his dad says, "but I wouldn't be surprised if it was because he's scared of failing. It's been a tough year, for both him and you. This probably isn't the only class he's failing, and he's probably worried about having to go to summer school.  He's scared and upset, and you were a convenient target, so he lashed out at you. I doubt he meant it, or wanted to hurt you."

Stiles nodded. "I guess so," he said. He wanted to believe it, that Scott didn't really mean to hurt him, but wasn't really sure he did.

***

When he wakes up in the morning, Stiles sees that there's a bunch of texts and messages from Scott. He deletes all of them.

***

He walks into Chemistry the next morning, and notices out of the corner of his eye that Scott's already sitting in his seat. He doesn't look at him after that, doesn’t want to rehash yesterday's fight.

Harris's class is boring as fuck, just like it always is. Harris seems to only know how to talk in a condescending monotone, and he enjoys making the math more complicated than it actually is. Stiles knows he'll just teach the material to himself tonight from the textbook. He's not really sure why he bothers to come to class most days. He spends the class doodling, werewolves and dragons and vampires coming alive in the margins of the pages.

Several pages later, the bell finally rings. Stiles gets up and begins collecting his things. Notebook, pens, laptop all go back into his backpack. When he turns around, Scott's standing next to him.

"Hey, Stiles, can I talk to you?" Scott asks. He looks earnest and desperate.

Stiles shrugs. "I've got to go to Calculus now." Scott's still taking Algebra. "If you want to talk, meet me in the library during lunch," he says as he walks away. He doesn't think he can have this conversation right now, in front of all of their peers.

He leaves Scott staring stupidly at his back as he walks away without waiting for a reply.

***

It's lunchtime, and Stiles is sitting by himself in the library, fucking around on his phone while he picks at his lunch. He wonders if Scott's going to come. Stiles knows that he handled Scott's request badly this morning. He wouldn't be surprised if Scott was so pissed at him that he doesn't even bother to show up.

He sees Scott walking up the aisle towards him. Stiles' stomach lurches, and he's sure that Scott hears his heart skip a beat. He puts down his phone, and does his best to calm himself.

_There's nothing to be afraid of_ , he tells himself. _Scott's been your best friend for forever. You're totally going to make up and everything's going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine._

Scott finally gets to Stiles' table. He stands there awkwardly for a bit.

"Can we, like, talk?" Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs his shoulders. "Sure."

 

Scott takes the seat next to Stiles, but doesn't look at him. 

Stiles decides he isn't speaking first. He's pretty sure that Scott's in the wrong here, and he wants to see what Scott will say.

They sit in oppressively awkward silence for a bit, and then Scott says, with an eager expression on his face, "Look, Stiles, I didn't mean to say what I did yesterday. I was mad about failing, and it isn't fair for me to take it out on you. I don't blame you if you're mad at me -"

"Yeah, I'm kinda mad at you," Stiles cuts in. "But I'm also confused. What you said yesterday, where the fuck did that come from?" Immediately, he wishes he hadn't said that. He's trying to make up with Scott, not make him _angrier_.

Scott's expression falls. "Yeah, what I said yesterday wasn't cool."

"It wasn't," Stiles agrees.

"I kinda freaked out, I guess," Scott says. "I'm, like, officially failing Chemistry now. I'm going to have to go to summer school if I don't pull my grades up, and, and, I'm not sure I can," he finishes in a mumble.

"You will," Stiles says immediately. "I'll help you _."_

_Idiot_ , Stiles thinks _. That's exactly what got you into trouble yesterday._

"Unless you don't want the help," he adds.

"I do want help," Scott says. "I really, really do. There's no way I'm passing without you."

Stiles breathes a sigh of relief then. He and Scott, they're good. Scott's still his best friend, and they didn't completely fuck this up.

"And I'll help you," Stiles repeats. "You're going to pass. It'll be like History last year. You'll be fine by the end of the semester."

Scott looks relieved too. "Dude, you're awesome. I was kinda scared that you would be really mad with me, and wouldn't help me, or, like, wouldn't forgive me for what I said yesterday. I knew it was a mistake the second I said it."

"Yeah, it wasn't really like you. What happened?" Stiles asks. _Did you mean what you said?_ he doesn't ask.

Scott looks down at the table, and then back at Stiles. "Like I said, I kinda freaked. I really, really don't want to go to summer school, and-and I'm scared that I'm not going to be able to get into college."

"Because of your grades from the last couple of years?"

"Yeah," Scott says. "I'm not good at this school shit, not like you. You get straight A's without really trying, it seems, and it takes me forever to scrape by, and the whole werewolf thing hasn't really been helping. You're going to be able to get in anywhere, and get a ton of scholarships, and I'm, well, I'm going to be lucky if I actually manage to graduate from high school."

"You're going to," Stiles repeats. "Cuz I'm going to help. And yeah, UCLA or UC Berkeley are probably lost causes," he pauses to see how Scott's taking this. He's nodding in agreement, so Stiles continues, "But other state schools are definitely possibilities. And even if you don't get into any four year schools right away, you can go to Beacon Hills Community College and transfer _. Anyone_ can get in there, even complete morons. And you're definitely not stupid. You might not get into the best school, but your entire future education won't be fucked just because you're failing Chem right now. There's still time to get your grades up, and we're going to do it.

"With your help," Scott says. "There's, like, no way I can do it without you."

"True," Stiles says. "But you're better at a lot of other things than me. With your freaky werewolf shit, you're, like, insanely good at lacrosse. Maybe we can get you in on an athletic scholarship somewhere. This," Stiles gestures at himself, "is never going to be good at lacrosse. I have to keep my grades up. It's my only chance. But with you, an athletic scholarship is a real possibility." His mind's already spinning. He's going to have to research athletic scholarships tonight, and see what he has to do to get Scott considered for one. "So you'll be fine."

"I hope so," Scott says.

"I know so," Stiles says. Scott's already got his usual everything-is-totally-awesome grin back on his face, so Stiles knows he's back to himself.

"Did you mean what you said?" Stiles blurts out. He doesn't mean to ask, since they've already made up and everything. He doesn't want to make things awkward again. But _he has_ to know. And now Scott's looking all worried again. Scott's _really_ bad at keeping his emotions to himself. But then, Scott's been handling the last few months better than Stiles himself has, excepting yesterday's incident, so maybe Scott's method is better.

"No," Scott says, shaking his head. "I really, really didn't mean that. I was just upset and angry at myself, and kinda annoyed that you always do better than me without nearly as much effort. So I said something stupid. Like ten seconds later, I knew I made a huge mistake. I really fucked up."

"You don't blame me for Alison," Stiles says hesitantly, watching Scott's face carefully.

"No! Alison was completely not your fault. Dude, you were, like, possessed. How could it be your fault?"

Stupid Scott with his stupid facial expressions. Stiles knows that Scott completely, utterly, believes every single word he says. He doesn't know what he did to have such a great best friend, one who trusts in him _so_ much more than he trusts himself.

"You're, like, the best friend that I have, and I know you so well that I said something that I knew would make you upset, even though I completely didn't mean it. Do you forgive me?" Scott asks in a small voice. "I understand if you're still mad, because -"

"Of course I forgive you," Stiles interrupts. "We're best friends, and we always forgive each other." Scott looks relieved, and Stiles knows they're good. He continues on to more mundane, less touchy-feely subjects. "And best friends help each other pass Harris' stupid quizzes. What do you think of this study plan?" He decides that they've done enough of this emotion-sharing shit for the day. They're best friends. They were able to work this out, and if anything else happens, they'll be able to work that out too.

 


End file.
